


Famille

by Tiph



Category: The 100
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 16:03:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5297510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiph/pseuds/Tiph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He drew in a shuddered breath. His heart was pounding in his chest, sending flows of blood in his reddened face, in his shaking hands and pacing legs. Nervous ? Nah. Edgy, perhaps. Barely, even.</p><p>	He came to a stop in front of the metallic door, staring at it for a long time. He could picture her, snuggled in a blanket to protect her from the raging winter, hair falling on her shoulders, a book in her hands and a fuming cup of hot cocoa on the nightstand. Every once in a while, she would blush at some graphic passage of the romantic novel she had decided to devour, hiding her face further in the comforter even though no one was around to see her, with only her beautiful and full of delight brown eyes left visible. A curl of hair would then land on her nose, making her squint for a moment before a small sigh escaped her pink lips, slightly chapped by the cold, and oh so delicious to kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Famille

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't know what to listen to while reading this fic, I higly recommand the Christmas song O Little Town of Bethlehem by Harry Belafonte and of course, the song that inspired this fic : Famille, by Jean-Jacques Goldman !

He drew in a shuddered breath. His heart was pounding in his chest, sending flows of blood in his reddened face, in his shaking hands and pacing legs. Nervous ? Nah. Edgy, perhaps. Barely, even.

He came to a stop in front of the metallic door, staring at it for a long time. He could picture her, snuggled in a blanket to protect her from the raging winter, hair falling on her shoulders, a book in her hands and a fuming cup of hot cocoa on the nightstand. Every once in a while she would blush at some graphic passage of the romantic novel she had decided to devour, hiding her face further in the comforter even though no one was around to see her, with only her beautiful and full of delight brown eyes left visible. A curl of hair would then land on her nose, making her squint for a moment before a small sigh escaped her pink lips, slightly chapped by the cold, and oh so delicious to kiss. She would curl up under every blanket her bed had to offer, seeking the warmth she loved so much, sipping the soothing beverage to not burn her tongue. Sometimes, a soft giggle would come from the bundle. A soft giggle that sounded like music to his ears. Yes, he could almost hear it.

He raised his hand to knock on the door, hesitated for a moment then let if fall back in his pocket. Damn. He rolled his eyes at his own, stupid behaviour. Stupid, so very stupid. Childish. He felt more like an awkward and sweaty teenager than a fearless leader. Alright, almost fearless. Still. Sweaty, for God's sake, with -5°C outside.

Okay, maybe he was a little bit nervous.

Who wouldn't be ?

His old self wouldn't be at all. He used to be quite the womanizer and knew how to make it worth his time. Yet, none of this was relevant now, as he was reduced to a nervous wreck at the idea of knocking on a door.

It was all her fault anyway. She had cracked open every wall he had built around himself over the years, had reduced them to ashes and blown them away for good. Without his consent. So yes, it was indeed her fault.

Footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, but he payed them no attention, too focused that he was on the damn door that was keeping him from going on with his plan. That horrible and so very flawed plan that he feared could go wrong in so many ways.

''Kane, what are yo- Oh my God, seriously ?''

His eyes opened wide as he recognized the voice and the danger that layed behind it. Bad, so bad. Clarke walked closer to him, eyeing him up and down, and taking her time in doing so, an amused and very frustrating if you asked him, smile on the corner of her mouth.

She knew what he was up to, had guessed a long time ago, and he still had to decide whether it was a good thing or not. The fact that she had happily accepted whatever was going on between him and her mother overwhelmed him with joy, but the devious expression she was now wearing didn't augur well for him, of that he was certain. It was the exact same look Jake used to give him before something went bad, obviously ending with him being grounded for several weeks in a row. Evil little creatures.

As it turned out, he was right. Sadly.

It didn't take much, because all Clarke had to do to make him curse and vociferate threats as she ran away was to take a step forward and bump her fist against the door.

Later, way later, he would thank her in his mind – admit it to her would be an important strategic mistake for sure -, for he didn't know how long he could have stayed there, stuck like an idiot. However, and for now, he hated her. She was the reason his mind was blank. She was the reason Abby was standing in front of him, speechless.

They blinked at each other for a few seconds.

''You look gorgeous tonight Marcus ! I mean, well, not that you're not usually, and not that I would notice it actually, nope, obviously. What am I even saying ?''

Her jaw dropped and her whole face lit up.

Next thing he knew, she slammed the door in his face. Great start. Way to go.

Had he overdone it ? He had combed his hair, just the way she liked it with several curls falling in front of his eyes, and washed his face so many times that his skin felt numb. The beard, that he had kept. No one touches the beard. The clothes, perhaps ? He looked down at himself. A pale red shirt that Raven had insisted fit him well -he did have doubts about the woman's sense of fashion though- under a somewhat greyish suit jacket. It felt tight and weird. Probably a little bit too tight than it should have been, but then it wasn't like they had a lot of wardrobe choices.

The sound of his boots was the only thing to be heard and for a moment he wished some emergency would come up and force him to return to his duties. To say that a few days ago he had been jumping up and down in sheer excitement at the idea...

The grinding of the door startled him. He spun around so fast that he lost his balance and if it wasn't for his quick reflexes he would have fallen flat on his face.

There she was, shining even more than ever. Where did this marvelous, very revealing perfectly shaped knee-length beige dress come from ? Mouth agape, he stared. He stared while she picked her old and shabby blue jacket, he stared while she locked the door, he stared when she offered him her hand to take, a knowing grin on her flawless face. He kept on staring for the whole night.

He led her down the corridor, towards a room that he had discovered a few weeks prior. Their walk was silent, a both comfortable and awkward silence. He turned his head ever so slightly so that he could observe her from the corner of his eyes. She carried herself with pride, her chin imperceptibly up, the outline of her lips barely visible in the dark, but it didn't matter. He could retrace them by heart, knew them more than his own. His mouth was dry. His brain was frantically searching for anything that would sound intelligent, beautiful and be a compliment at the same time. Anything. Something.

''Can I kiss you ?''

Goddammit !

Did his mouth have a mind on its own ? Did it decide to crush him under a mountain of shame and abashment ? Of all the stupid, foolish, senseless things to say, he had to go for th-... Huh.

A kiss was without a doubt the most effective way to stop his mental jibbering. Abby knew him well. It barely lasted long enough for him to register it, a light and quick peck on his lips, that was it. Such a tease. A taste of what was to come, or so he hoped.

They stopped at the bottom of a ladder. A flash of the last time they had to climb a ladder came to his mind. How different things were back then, the many paths they had traveled since their first day on Earth ; all firmly anchored in the past. Stay focused on the here and now.

''Ladies first.''

They stopped at the bottom of a ladder. A flash of the last time they had to climb a ladder came to his mind. How different things were back then, the many paths they had traveled since their first day on Earth ; all firmly anchored in the past. Stay focused on the here and now.

A smile of pride grew on his face at the sound of her exclamation of surprise and wonder. Eager, he climbed up the last steps and stood by her side. Her mouth was slightly open, a gleam in her eyes as she took everything in.

The room was quite large, at least twice the size of the Council Room and at least twice as much welcoming. Maybe because here they didn't have to endorse all these responsibilities, they were free to be themselves, leaving the arguments down there. That was what freedom had to be like. He knew the room as much as his sleeping quarters, but Abby didn't. Every single detail had to be perfect, for her.

The moon cast its light through the many windows, giving a privileged sight of the dark sky full of shining stars. In the farthest corner was a makeshift fireplace, its glow surrounding a very comfortable-looking couch. Warmth. Shelves, garlands and soft lights decorated the walls, all leading to one point in the center. A giant tree stood tall and proud, full of green, red and gold ornaments. The lingering sweet aroma of pine drifted around the room, sometimes escorted by the thin stream of smoke and flower-scented candles. The smell of forest, of nature, of Earth. The fizzing and crackling sound of the dancing fire melted into the songs flowing from a record player. Homely.

''Merry Christmas.''

The hot breath on her ear whispered the words softly, as if speaking too loud would break the state of awe-struck she was trapped in. Everyone on the Ark knew about Christmas, but no one celebrated it anymore and this love and family based tradition eventually became part of history. They had studied it the same way they had studied gruesome wars, with the usual detachment that came with lessons. Yet, the little kid that Marcus had once been had fallen for the magic and the spirit behind it, going as far as to ask his mother if they could do it too.

He felt her lean into his touch as he wrapped his arms around her. His nose in her hair, he breathed in the familiar and comforting scent, enjoying the simple but precious pleasure of feeling her. All his senses were working, helping him to ground himself in the present and the overwhelming joys it brought.

A rumbling stomach was all it took to break their trance. A sheepish laugh from Abby later they made their way to the light brown couch. As they sat, Marcus bent over the side and handed her two sticks, a plate and a box. She blinked at him, obviously trying to understand what the hell they were going to do with that. Greatly amused by her dismay, he took his time in taking out another box, bigger than the previous one, and opening the lid. Curiosity took over her as she squinted at the content.

''Masharmallows.''

Was she supposed to understand ? Or did his brain finally gave out under the pressure ?

''Uh, wait no... Marsh-mal-lows, yes that's it !''

Nope, still didn't get it. Marcus showed her the tag on the box where the foreign word was indeed written, then proceeded to poke one on each wooden stick, and hold it just above the flames, letting them scratch and roast the poor thing. He held it there for a while, until it had a nice golden color, and put it on the plate, ready to be eaten. Which was exactly what they did, savouring the gooey substance, even more so when Marcus added melted chocolate to it. A fast and effective way to send Abby over the edge, making her hum in exquisite pleasure.

Her turn.

''Here, let me help you.''

The fact that she could have perfectly done it on her own was both acknowledged and fiercely ignored by the two. Instead, Marcus moved closer to her, circling her with his arms, his hands on hers. Her back was on his chest as they repeated the steps, the considerably slower and clumsier steps. The truth was that neither of them paid much attention to what they were doing.

She turned her head, a smirk growing on her lips when she noticed that Marcus's focus was on the fire, his stare intense as a light blush crept up his cheeks. Trying his hardest not to look at her.

Just like every single time he engaged in a battle involving a Griffin woman, he lost. Once again, they spent more time than was advised gazing in the other's eyes. Neither of them knew when they started doing so, years and years ago, at first and for a long time, only to engage in some argument staring contest. They mastered it.

This night however, it wasn't anything hate based. No, quite the opposite in fact. They weren't cheesy romantic lovers in need of ogling the other, something else drove them. That something was the simple but nonetheless familiar sensation it carried, that feeling of common ground that brought them closer when it used to tear them apart.

Their faces were bare inches away, their breath melting, their lips getting closer and closer...

''Huh, I'll go get the food, be right back !''

''Oh yes, okay, sounds good, great idea ! Yes, you do that, thank you, good.''

What a pair of brainless idiots.

The rest of the evening went on smoothly with no other incident, they ate hearty and copious meals ; more food than the both of them thought they would ever be able to eat, yet they somehow managed to fit it all in their stomachs. Smoked meat, sautéed potatoes, moonshine, green vegetables, fish, and some more moonshine.

Right, he may have overdone it with the moonshine. But then, he may have showed up at Monty Green and Jasper Jordan's distillery, his most deadly I-am-the-leader-and-I-know-101-ways-to-kill-you-without-anyone-knowing expression on, asking about their illegal contraband, and he may have threatened to hang them by their feet if they didn't hand him the finest merchandise. All of it.

Raven too had found herself to be surprisingly supportive of his plan to recreate a Christmas night for Abby, helping him with all the lights and, to his great despair, with his wardrobe. _Yes, you do need to button the shirt, and no you are NOT wearing your boots. Please, for the love of God, stop fidgeting, I don't care if your pants are too tight in that area !_ They had both sighed endlessly, she had screamed, he had whined, but in the end he had buttoned the shirt and kept the boots.

Midnight was just a few minutes away, with it the moment he dreaded the most. Taking a deep breath, he faked his most confident and charming smile, and not so long after they were both sitting cross-legged at the foot of the Christmas tree. He grumbled at the feeling of pine needles bitting his tighs and backside, shifting in the attempt of finding a more comfortable position, all the while very aware of Abby's expecting look.

She for once didn't seem to mind that she didn't have any control on what was happening that evening. She let him take over, let him bring to her everything that would make her night unforgettable, which included three presents he had just retrieved from behind the trunk, hidden in the shadows.

''I know you, you would have jumped on them and ripped the wrappings apart at first sight if I hadn't hid them.''

The playful whack on his arm did hurt but it was way worth it. Abby's eyes were glued to the presents, following as Marcus took some malicious pleasure in sliding the pile from left to right. Ha. Fun. Left, right, left ri -

''Damn it Marcus, stop that and give them to me already !''

He complied with a smile. A very nervous smile. She snatched the first present from his hands with a glare, her fingers fumbled with anticipation with the brown paper wrapped around it. Her first time. Never before had she had the satisfaction of unwrapping a gift, no one on the Ark had enough paper to waste. Now, the luxury of enjoying a more frivolous lifestyle was within arm's reach. Thanks to...

Thanks to a sweater.

A red sweater. With green stags. And white snowflakes. Everwhere.

Seriously ?

That was it. He couldn't refrain his laugh anymore. Her face was so priceless, there was no way he could hold it back.

''I'm sorry, I just couldn't help myself.''

The fact that the words were said in between hiccups didn't help much his case. Specially when she put the sweater on. Specially when she told him to shut up, to no avail. Obviously.

It was only several minutes later that he managed to catch his breath, tears in his eyes, and so proud. Abby's own giggles faded in a beaming smile when he handed her the second present.

''This one is better. I think.''

He bit his lower lip, running a shaking hand in his hair. This one was a lot more serious. He had spent days thinking, wondering what he could give her that could be useful, beautiful and meaningful at the same time. He still wasn't sure. What he was sure about, though, was that Abby was deliberately taking her time to taunt him. She took off the tape carefully, going as far as folding the wrapping when she was done before directing her attention of what was on her lap.

Worry crept up his chest when he heard her gasp. In her hands was a wooden box. He had carved it himself with different patterns, destroying five knives in the process, ruining his hands with blisters, but happy all the same. Until now.

''It's huh, for your tools, I thought, I mean, it's - ''

Not that he was complaining, _of course_ , but it became quite a habit of hers to interrupt his stammering by crashing her lips on his. Not that he was complaining, again, to be sure. It unnerved and heartened him, the power she had on him. Not that he was complaining. Was he rambling ?

The mood shifted suddenly when Abby drew back with a concerned expression.

''What is it ?''

''I don't have any present for you.''

Oh. _Oh_. He never thought about that. The answer was evident.

''You are the present, Abby.''

He booped her on the nose.

Damn moonshine.

At least, that endearing smile of hers was back, this time bringing with him a small blush.

The worst was yet to come, he knew it. The worst was in that last, enormous box. Box that was now being open to reveal a, yep, a box. Wick had given him the idea, he was the one to blame. There it was, another smaller box inside the previous one ! He had loved it, specially when he knew that would lead to the adorable little frown – yes, exactly that one – and the tightening of her lips. Then, she would look up at him, with that look usually reserved for small, cute and disconcerting children. _Yes Abby, another one. Don't get mad. Please don't smother me in my sleep for that_.

When she got to the last one, his heart began to hammer his chest. He couldn't wait to see her face but also feared her reaction. Too soon, his mind kept repeating, too soon... Too late, maybe. Decades too late. Her hand slipped inside it, closed on a small, smooth object.

Abby went through so many emotions in very few seconds that her features paused between a mix of astonishment, joy and nostalgia. The next thirty minutes happened in a blur. Later, Marcus would remember the kisses, the _yes, you silly man,_ the bottles of moonshine, the red tornado that threw her arms at him and the warmth that engulfed the two. They stayed sprawled on the carpet for so long that his muscles began to ache, it hurt and it felt good.

As soon as he heard the first notes played by the record player, Marcus leaped to his feet, blushing at Abby's soft giggle when he stumbled, his head light.

He bowed and offered her his hand to take.

''May I have this dance ?''

> You're my family
> 
> From my order and from my rank
> 
> The one I've choosen
> 
> The one I feel
> 
> In this army of ordinary people

Slow dance. Marcus took her hands, slowly swinging them, the softest of smiles on his lips. , before beginning to lead her through the dance. Their movements were awkward and stiff, they weren't following the rythm of the music and they got tangled a couple of times. Abby swirled in his arms, her dress swishing along. She unbuttoned his too tight shirt. The excuse was that it restrained him.

> You're my family
> 
> Much more than the blood one
> 
> Handfuls of seconds
> 
> In this strange world
> 
> May he protect you if he hears

''I lied earlier. I do have a present for you.''

> You're my family, you're my family
> 
> From the same rank, from the same wind
> 
> You're my family, you're my family
> 
> Inhabitant of the same time
> 
> You're my family, you're my family
> 
> Let's cross our lives from time to time

Her hand guided his to her stomach, where several weeks laters a bulge would be.

> You're my family, you're my family
> 
> From the same rank, from the same wind
> 
> You're my family, you're my family
> 
> Inhabitant of the same time
> 
> You're my family, you're my family
> 
> Let's cross our lives from time to time

How they ended naked on the couch only a few minutes later was a mystery neither of them was eager to solve.

**Author's Note:**

> Original lyrics :
> 
> Tu es de ma famille  
> De mon ordre et de mon rang  
> Celle que j'ai choisie  
> Celle que je ressens  
> Dans cette armée de simple gens
> 
> Tu es de ma famille  
> Bien plus que celle du sang  
> Des poignées de secondes  
> Dans cet étrange monde  
> Qu'il te protège s'il entend
> 
> Tu es de ma famille, tu es de ma famille  
> Du même rang, du même vent  
> Tu es de ma famille, tu es de ma famille  
> Même habitant du même temps  
> Tu es de ma famille, tu es de ma famille  
> Croisons nos vies de temps en temps
> 
> Jean-Jacques Goldman, Famille


End file.
